


Lunch Time Universe

by BeneGesseritWitch



Series: Original Writing Drabbles [1]
Category: Elements - Fandom, Original Work, Wicca - Fandom, drabble - Fandom, ficlet - Fandom, witchcraft - Fandom, writing practice - Fandom
Genre: Blindess, Blindess? magical sight, Elemental Magic, Maiden, The Moon - Freeform, Writing practice, anyone want to beta?, casting spells, crone - Freeform, i don't have a beta so sorry, mother - Freeform, mother earth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:07:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeneGesseritWitch/pseuds/BeneGesseritWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is me practicing my creative writing and attempting to work in a little of my wicca background. Not all drabbles will have wiccan/witchcraft elements, each story is a standalone so if you nothing floats your boat you can skip ahead. i don't have a beta so all mistakes are my own, and i have tweaked some quarter calls and specific circle casting elements because i didn't want a ritual portrayed how we do it in circle, you know that whole 'to be silent' thing. Most of these are written during my lunch breaks so hence the name Lunch Time Universe</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ahren/Anger

Ahren stood on the ledge that overlooked a sea of endless blue black. She was angry, and she had half-forgotten why. With fists clenched as tightly as her eyes were shut, she breathed, and tried to calm the rising anger, but it was useless. Memory after memory of past hurts, and present aggravations pulsed through her brain. It flowed until it became a near palpable thing, racing underneath her skin, making it feel tight, until she wanted to claw at it. Her fingers began to tingle. 

Dark clouds, pregnant with rain, rolled in, and pushed along by the same wind that whipped through her long, dark hair, brought with it the smell of ozone. The crack of thunder echoed and boomed, punctuated by intermittent flashes of lightening, as it arced down from the tumultuous gray of the sky above to the white tipped fury of the ocean below. Her hands began to throb.  
The ocean lay rough and frothy hundreds of feet below. Waves did not so much as dance, but slam themselves against the cliff face. Ahren could hear them, and she could understand that urge. To hurl oneself against an unforgiving surface repeatedly until not a thing remained except the tang of coppery salt in the air. Her heart began to burn. 

She stood still, as still as the earth beneath her naked feet, and felt the momentum of the storm sing in her blood. She knew she had to calm herself or she would explode. She had to ground herself or she would light up the night sky like a hundred meteors entering the atmosphere all at once. She had to get control or else she would scatter. 

The soft pat pat pat pat of fat raindrops finally dropped around her, over her, and water fell from her eyes as though they were tears. Steam rose from her shoulders, her neck, and from her nose as she panted in anger, in exertion. The rain was cold, and her skin was so hot. Hot and itchy and tight, and the cold water was a shock. Storms should be all fire and rage, Ahren thought, not this needle-like stinging that pelted the skin, growing heavier by the moment as it slithered down the back of her shirt, all the way down to the small of her back.  
With eyes still clenched tightly shut she raised her fisted hands, now stiff from the cold and wet, and forced open her palms towards the sky. She stood with her legs shoulder width apart and dug her toes into the soggy earth. Ahren took a breath, slow and deep, released it, and then another, and another. Blood returned to her fingertips, tiny pinpricks of awareness and pain that somehow always reminded her of the white noise her grandmother’s television made when the broadcast day was done. Slowly, she turned her back to the sea and faced east.  
In a low tight voice, she began to chant.

“By all the power of wind and sky, I feel your kiss as you whip by, eastern wind I bid ye here, to watch this rite and linger near. Come sit with me in the summer storm and lend your gifts to this child of woman born.”  
The wind swelled and ruffled her skirt in a frenzy of motion.   
With an almost military precision she turned to the south, stretched her arms up higher, and in the same low voice she began to chant.   
“by all the powers of fire bright, by lust and love, and burning light, crimson flame I bid ye here, to watch this rite and linger near, come sit with me in the summer storm, lend your gifts to this child of woman born”

A sharp crack rang out behind her as lightning struck a copse of wayward pines that dotted here and there near the cliff face. The burning smell of wood drifted on the wind, and she could feel the heat of the flame upon her back. The storm continued to swirl around her, and she could sense her anger ebb becoming muted in the presence of a power older and more primal than her own. 

She faced west, and took a moment to feel the cold on her face, this time a soothing counterpoint to warmth from the fire on her left.   
In a steady strong voice, she once again began to chant.  
“by all the power of well and tide, and ebb and flow of ocean wide, mother water I bid ye here, to watch this rite and linger near, come sit with me in the summer storm, lend your gifts to this child of woman born”.  
From hundreds of feet down, three giant waves crashed against the rocks below, the rain fell harder and in larger drops, but the stinging sensation upon her skin was gone. 

Ahren at last turned to the north. The mud that squelched between her toes and around her feet was not warm, but still soothing in its own way. She lowered her hands as if reaching out towards something. In a solemn and almost yearning tone she began to chant.

“by all the power of earth and stone, of grain of sand, and ancient bone, silent mother I bid ye here, to watch this rite and linger near, come sit with me in the summer storm, lend your gifts to this child of woman born”.

The earth itself seemed to rumble softly. The trees shivered at their roots while the wind and rain still made free with their branches and leaves. A few rocks tumbled loose from the cliff and dropped the waters below. Ahren opened her eyes, one brown, one blue, and still as sightless, as they were before the storm started. With her right hand extended, she once again turned in circle, slow and deliberate once, twice, thrice. With each turning she chanted.

“By the power of old ones I am protected”.  
“By the right of the young ones I am empowered”  
“By the grace of the Mother I am loved”

Ahren stopped. The wind continued to howl, the fire continued to burn, the rain continued to fall, but in her little circle, all was calm.   
She fell to her knees with her head bowed, as if in prayer. 

“By all that is fair and fruitful, and all that is abundant and rich, mother I call you. By the turning of the tides and the beating of my heart, mother I call you. Powerful moon and radiant light, weave me a web that spins the night, a web of stars that holds the dark, I am the power that feeds the spark. Mother, I call you! “  
She waited. She breathed. For one wretched heartbeat, she feared she wouldn’t be answered, that she would be left alone. 

“Mother” she whispered brokenly, “I call you”

Then, before the fears could multiple, before the anger could return at having failed, at having not been as strong as she thought she was, she felt it. That soft glowing presence of warmth all around her that reminded her so much of home, when home was a little cottage deep in a forest a dozen lifetimes ago, and she herself was another person. She tried to speak and couldn’t. She opened her eyes, and kneeling in the grass with her arms around her was the most radiant being Ahren had ever seen. A dusky skinned goddess with long tightly curled silver hair streaked with starlight and eyes that held the entire depths of the ocean in their gaze. The goddess simply wrapped her dark arms; the color of rich and fertile fields, around Ahren tighter and gently petted her hair, and crooned a lullaby. 

I am the wind, in the trees, I am the truth that you must breathe, and I am here, to free you.  
I am the spark that lights the fire, I am the flame that takes you higher, and I am here, to inspire you.  
I am the rain, I am the river, I am the flow that makes you quiver, and I am here, to deliver you.  
I am the forest, I am the field, I am the Mother, to whom you yield, and I am here, to shield you.   
I am the spirit, I am the divine, I am with you, and you are mine, and I am here, to guide you. 

For what seemed like hours, they huddled there, mother and daughter, Demeter and Persephone, Madonna and child, goddess and priestess, Mother and maiden. Ahren sniffled and wept silently, and the Mother held and comforted, and lent strength to her child in her arms. All too soon, it was time to say farewell for the present. With one last kiss on the forehead of her young supplicant, The Mother was gone, and along with her, the storm. All was still and calm, the burning trees had been snuffed out by the rain, and night had fallen. Only a few clouds remained in the night sky to give company to the moon, as she shone in full glory. 

Ahren sniffled, and took one last look around her. With a deep breath calming breath, she stood, closed her eyes, and imagined all her negative thoughts and emotions as beings of lights draining out of the soles of her feet, out into the ground, so that it could be renewed in the earth’s core, while mentally she repeated:

~Earth be hallow, air be clear, fire burns as water heals,~  
~I cast all negativity, leaving only the good that I may need.~

In her mind’s eye, she pictured pure white energy from the universe as it flowed into her from above. The anger had faded away to a low throb, then a distant rumble, and finally, a slight hum. Her hands relaxed, and her heartbeat slowed, her mind calmed itself until one thought remained. 

I am worthy, I am capable, I am loved, and I am free

Ahren sat there, on that cliff overlooking the sea, now awash with moonlight. She sat with her arms wrapped around her legs, hugging them close and just looked. She feasted on the muted colors, the varying shades of night, and the contrast of the water that seemed to sparkle like diamonds with the inky blackness of the night sky speckled by starlight. It was warm and peaceful. 

Finally, with one last look around her to get her bearings, and say a silent farewell to the stars above, she closed her eyes, turned to the north, pressed her palms together at chest height, and bowed low in thanks while silently mouthing words of farewell. She repeated the gesture to the west, south, and finally east, before she stretched out her left hand, palm out and turned in a circle again, withdrawing the energy that she cast out in the beginning. 

Ahren opened her eyes, one brown and one blue, and once again as sightless as they were before the storm started.   
She set of confidently towards the north, towards a small apartment, in a small town, where a cup of tea was waited to be made, and a small dark kitten was waited to be cuddled. Though the road was long her feet knew the way, and she was not afraid.

The circle is open but unbroken, may the peace of the goddess be ever in my heart  
Merry meet, and Merry we part, and merry we meet again.


	2. Emily aka Exhaustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I had been working many 12 hour shifts in a row, things were going wrong everywhere, and I felt this was good away to purge what i was feeling. Also, i totally have that many alarms on my phone to get up in the morning. According to Elementary that means I don't like my job. It's true, kind of. I love my job, just no the stress that comes with it.

The alarm had apparently been going off for at least two minutes before Emily swam up through the layers of deep sleep to break through the surface into consciousness. Her eyelids still felt gritty and a bit crusty. The groan she uttered was just shy of a sob, and she stretched so hard and so long that she was left feeling a bit light headed afterwards. Emily checked the time on her mobile and calculated how many more extra minutes of sleep she could get if she skipped the shower and makeup routine. She did a quick armpit sniff and decided that her smell was adequate. Emily tapped snooze and closed her eyes…just for a few minutes more. 

30 minutes later, her second alarm went off. With eyes closed, Emily blindly groped around the bed covers to find her phone. She checked her Facebook notifications with one eye open, her left eye had apparently not got the memo that it was time to wake up, and then sat up. She let her feet dangle over the edge of the bed with her big toe just barely grazing the carpet. It was cold outside of her duvet. Emily hung her head, and before she could second-guess herself, stood up and plodded naked on sleep heavy legs to the bathroom that adjoined her bedroom.  
It was cold in there too. The floor was cold. The toilet seat was cold. The water she used to wash her hands and brush her teeth was cold. Everything was cold and her eyes felt dry and tired. She splashed water on her face, patted it dry with her black and gold Army of One beach towel, and then slathered lotion on some ‘good morning elixir” that promised to help ‘ keep her skin moist and youthful, while eliminating fine lines and wrinkles’. It helped…a little. Shivering she searched for a pair of underwear in the “clean” pile, and grabbed the hanger labeled “Tuesday” from the closet which comprised of one pair black dress slacks and one red long sleeve button up dress shirt. With her hair in a not as sloppy as it could be ponytail, Emily spritzed on a light scent that was meant to evoke shades of autumn and amber, but only evoked memories of the 2 for 1 sale at bath and body works last year. She stubbed her toe looking for a renegade shoe, dropped her watch 3 times trying to pick it up off the bedside table, and introduced her thigh to the footboard, again. 

At precisely 0600 her 15-minute warning alarm sounded. Emily sighed as she looked around for her mobile. She could have slept in for an extra 15 minutes. She found it on the back of the toilet, swiped left to silence the alarm and walked out of her bedroom. She forgot to shut off the bedside lamp. Emily grabbed her purse off the kitchen table where she had left it the night before after coming home late. She didn’t see her sunglasses fall out and land on the take away bag from Rossati’s pizza, which was all that was left of her hastily eaten dinner. Emily figured she had a few extra minutes to make a cup of coffee. She grabbed her Captain America travel mug and picked out a light roast blend. While machine hissed and brewed, she grabbed three individual servings of French vanilla creamer. Apparently still half asleep Emily opened them one by one, and instead of pouring them into her cup, poured them straight into the trash bin one by one before she realized what she did. Emily grabbed the counter top with both hands, and tried to count to ten. Then she tried to count to ten in Spanish. When that didn’t work she tried saying the alphabet in Spanish but got stuck at the letter “g”. Emily decided that coffee was overrated and shuffled out of the door leaving the steaming cup of bitter regret on the coffee machine be she remembered that her keys were still on the table. 

Emily turned around, set her phone down on the counter-top, checked the fridge in case something new appeared since last night that she could take for lunch, saw nothing, grabbed her keys off the table, then shuffled back out the door (remembering to lock it behind her for once) to her car.   
Emily plopped heavily into the driver’s seat and buckled up for the long commute into the city. She inserted the keys into the ignition and poked around in her purse for her mobile phone. It was not a very large purse but her phone remained decidedly not there. Tears began to prick behind her eyelids. Emily took one deep steadying breath, wiped her eyes, unbuckled her seat-belt, removed the keys from the ignition, and went to unlock the back door. Her mobile was right where she left it, next to the fridge on the kitchen counter. She stared at it in a disgusted manner before picking it back up again. 

Finally, FINALLY she was once again sat in her car, seat belt buckled, back door locked, mobile phone plugged in, and music playlist set. At 0615 last alarm of the morning sounded. She swiped left, put the car in “reverse” and slowly backed out of the driveway, looking for stray kids, and dogs out for their morning walk. The sun was just starting peak over the horizon and she knew that as soon as she was on the freeway it would be hitting right smack dab in her review mirror. 

“Fuck today” she said with vocal cords thick and clumsy and until now, unused that morning. She pressed play on her iPhone, shifted in tor drive, and prayed that the commute to work was uneventful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This drabble has not been beta'd, and any mistakes in grammar, sentence structure, and general suckiness are purely my own. Also, I've done that thing with pouring the creamer straight into the trash bin.


	3. Danni With An "I"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is one a little different, I tried to touch about asexualism/aromanticism so I apologize if I didn't get it quite right. I'm still learning about it, but thanks to my youngest child, who came out as agender/asexual this year, I'm learning a lot. Her (she still likes she/her pronouns) birth name was Dani, but she chose another one that she felt was more gender neutral so that's what we call her now.

You grab my right hand as we are walking and kiss my open palm. I smile, it’s what expected. I almost wish I could feel the rush of desire that I see in your eyes, but…there’s just fondness. 

“I’m fond of you” I say as I thread my fingers in between yours, and I mean it. I am fond of you.   
You smile and squeeze my hand, thinking it’s just one of my silly quirks. I never say ‘I love you too’. 

I squeeze back. The warmth of your palm is soothing , comforting even. You kiss my knuckles, my wrist, and the back of my hand. My smile becomes a little bit brittle but I console myself with the thought that at least it’s not open mouth kisses. I don’t like open mouth kisses. Did I ever tell you that? You don’t notice though because you’re looking ahead and talking about white picket fences, 2.5 kids (William and Amanda), and backyard barbeques. 

I tune out at the mention of children. Did we discuss having children? Maybe we should have. My left thumb plays with heavy diamond ring on my finger. It’s too heavy, too traditional, too “not me”. You talk about puppies. I perk up. I love dogs. We both talk about training techniques and names we like. I start mentioning my favorite breeds; small dogs, lap dogs; I would love a little lap dog to cuddle. You say no, toddlers and kids need big friendly dogs to rough house with and are protected by. 

“oh” I say. My excitement dims. “Of course”. 

We reach our destination, pub night with your friends. Its couples date night. They are nice. I like them, and they seem to like me. The conversation moves away from kids and houses, and on to movies, and TV shows, popular music and politics. You and I each drink a few beers, but are careful not to overdo it. You become more affectionate as the night passes. With more closed mouth kisses, nuzzles into my neck that turn into wet licks and nips, and back rubbing. The back rubbing is fine. It’s soothing some times, but not tonight. I already know how you want tonight to end, and I hate it. 

I don’t hate you though. I’m comfortable around you. I like how you make me laugh sometimes. I like how you hug me, with both arms and a squeeze. I like our conversations about the most random of topics. I like that you check out any scary noises in the middle of the night. I like how you pet my hair and tell me I’m pretty when I’m having a bad day. I sigh, quietly. You ask if I’m ready to go home. What you’re really asking is if I’m ready to go home and have sex. I say yes, but I want to say no. Maybe we should have talked about this too. Seems like there are quite a few things we should have talked about. We say our goodbyes to your friends, always your friends. I have friends too but we don’t hang out with them as a couple. We leave and the night is cool and pleasant. I want to enjoy the walk home but all I can think of is that it is only 20 minutes to my place, our place. 

I don’t think I can do this anymore  
I don’t think I can do this anymore  
I don’t think I can do this anymore

“I don’t think I can do this anymore”

You stop. I stop. You look at me. I look at you. 

“What?” you say. You’re a little shocked, I think. 

I am too; I didn’t realize I spoke out loud. 

“I don’t think we should get married” I say.

Your mouth opens, and then closes again. 

“Why do you say that? Where did this come from?” you finally ask, desperately trying not to be angry, trying not freak out, trying to be understanding. You always try so hard when I say something that does not compute with you. 

I twist the engagement ring on my finger, up and over the first knuckle then back down again. I repeat the action.

“I don’t want kids…” I start to say. 

I want to travel, and take fun classes, and go and spur of the moment trips with you

You cut me off with a hopeful “We can negotiate when we have…” 

This time I interrupt you, “I don’t like sex or open mouth kissing”.

There is nothing hopeful in your eyes now. Is sex that really so important to you?

You ask if it was you. “No”, I say,” this isn’t about you. “

You ask if I were faking sex and everything else. 

I answer quietly “yes, well the sex bit. Not the “everything else” bit. I am fond of you”. 

You start to cry. I do too. I am a little bit surprised by that. I twist my ring up and over and finally off my finger. My hand feels ten times lighter. There is a tan line and that for some reason makes me cry harder. I don’t know why. I try to hand you the ring. You are not looking at me so I grab your hand and place the ring in your palm. Your fingers close around it. We don’t say anything for a few minutes. 

Eventually we start walking again by mutual unspoken agreement. It’s silent except the occasional sniffle. Silence is not so bad normally. However, this silence is uncomfortable. I am almost glad when we get to the door and you unlock it with your key. Your lack of argument makes me to believe that you had to have known something was off. Why aren’t you fighting for me? For us? You don’t seem angry although I assume you must be. 

You don’t say anything as you pass me to go to the bedroom and close the door. I flick on the light switch and am at a loss of what I should do next. I hear doors open then close in our bedroom, and then drawers do the same. A few minutes later, you come out. I am still standing near the front door. You have a gym bag slung over your shoulder. Your eyes are red but dry. You still don’t look at me.

“I’ll be back in a couple of days to get my things. Is that ok?”

I nod. “Of course it is”. 

“I’ll text first to make sure you are home” you say.

I just nod again. What else can I do at this point? You take your key off your key ring; place it on the table, and with a quick nod of your head, you leave. The door closes behind you softly. I don’t know where you are going to stay the night and that worries me a little. I fish my phone out of my pocket and send you a quick message:

[text me when you get to wherever you’re going]

I don’t get answer. Should have I expected one? I worry about you. I am fond of you.

I look around, still standing there in my front door area awkwardly. The apartment is quiet in a way it never was before, even when you at work or out with your friends.  
For a moment, I panic. What did I just do? Did I do the right thing? I’m scared. What if that was as good as it was going to get? Am I sacred of being alone? Am I scared of being lonely? Maybe I could learn to like big dogs. Maybe a house isn’t so bad. Maybe raising kids…

I stop right there. I don’t want kids. I don’t like sex. I don’t like open mouth kissing. I don’t have to kiss someone any more if I don’t want to. I don’t have lay there and pretend that I’m enjoying having my body invaded, even if the invader is someone I like. This is a good thing. I did a good thing. I also did a painful thing, but sometimes it’s better to rip the band aid off all at once rather than slowly peel it off centimeter by centimeter. I should have said sorry for hurting you. I should have told you sooner that I don’t like sex, but you should have been a little bit more observant. Is sex the “be all end all” of a relationship? You loved me enough to want to marry me. Does that all go away because I don’t’ want to sleep with you anymore? I start to get a little mad at that thought. You know me but you don’t know me. It’s better this way. It is, it’s better this way. 

I walk into our bedroom. MY bedroom. It still smells a little like the cologne you put on before we went out. I head straight for the bed and climb in, still clutching my phone in one hand. I manage to strip off my shoes, jeans, and shirt but leave on my socks because my feet are cold. My feet are always cold it seems. You would curse every time my toes touched you, and then laugh, and then get up and get me a pair of socks. I always did it on purpose, just for your laugh, but I don’t think you realized that.   
Your pillow still smells like you too. Its ok, I like your smell. I set my phone on top of it. I wrap myself up in blankets and bed sheets that were left unmade from the morning. We stopped making the bed after seeing a buzzfeed article about the benefits of leaving it unmade. I smile at the memory. That was a good day. I laid there with my head on your chest, while you rubbed my back and read the article from your phone. Why couldn’t it always be like that? I could love you if it were always like that.  
I cuddle my pillow close, wishing it was you, but kind of not really and I feel a little bit guilty about that. I hope you will be ok. 

I hope I will be ok. 

An hour later my phone flashes and vibrates. I was dozing but not fully asleep. It’s you. I know it’s you. 

[at joe and sarah’s]

You’re staying with your brother and his wife. That’s good. Joe is a security guard and Sarah is a nurse. I like them. Joe will probably be at work, but Sarah is on maternity leave and will appreciate having you there. I type back a quick response.   
[Thank you ]

Almost immediately you text me back.  
[I love you]

I felt my heart squeeze a little bit reading that. You do love me. I know you do

[and i’m fond of you ] I respond.

I don’t think you find that quite as charmingly quirky as you did before. 

I tear up again at that thought. I really did this. This is really happening. It’s not fair to either one of us if I pretend to enjoy things that I don’t. I keep reassuring myself. The bed seems bigger, roomier, and tentatively I stretch out my legs. I try to picture how the evening normally would have ended, with you on top and me not feeling anything but the slick slide of you inside of me; pressure and fullness, and then the absence of it. My stomach clenches at little at the thought, and not in a good way. I give myself permission to not want to deal with that anymore. 

My phone doesn’t light up again. That’s ok. I wonder what you are saying to Sarah right now. I wonder what she is saying to you. Are you calling me vulgar names? Is she giving you advice like ‘the quickest way to get over someone is to get under someone else’? I don’t like that thought either. I don’t want to have sex with you, but the thought of you having sex with someone else hurts. I am fond of you. I am. I said ‘yes’ didn’t I? I sigh into my pillow. This hurts, and yet I’m proud of myself. I miss you and yet I’m proud of myself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently working on a a follow up to this one written from the 2nd person's point of view, let me know what you think...


End file.
